Opposites
by solitaryloner
Summary: Opposites don't usually attract, despite what people say. Life is not a Science experiment. However, if the person you think is unlike you is actually anything but so...if they happened to be hiding their actual thoughts and feelings behind masks in a bid to protect themselves...then that's a different story. For Ryuchu's Under-Appreciated Vocaloid Pairing Contest.


_**Solitaryloner: **__I love Yohioloid. I love Miku. There's my logic._

* * *

He was the new kid. Everyone was interested in him, curious about him, wondering what made him transfer into the school in the middle of the school year. And he, being long used to open staring and rumours, chose to ignore all the whispering going on around him – after all, he had better things to focus on. Besides, he would be shifting houses again, as always.

She was one of those curious onlookers, wondering what kind of person he was like. He was remarkably aloof for a new student; didn't want to make friends, didn't want to talk to anyone, content to simply bury his head in books and study. It startled her, for he was far from the studious type, or at least what she assumed a studious person would be like. He did not wear spectacles, he did not eagerly answer the teacher's every question, and he hardly turned in his homework on time. Yet, she was sure he studied; for how else could he top the class for every single test and quiz they were given?

He was the one who didn't want to speak to new people, because in his personal experience, talking to people was a bother. A waste of time…especially since he rarely ever stuck around for longer than a few months at a time. There wasn't any point in forming relationships, in his opinion; once he left, it wasn't as though he was going to stay in touch with his so-called 'friends', was he? It was better to not start anything at all; better to remain out of touch with the hell that was social interaction. He never saw the need to trouble himself.

She was the one who could not stand being alone. She needed interaction; craved it in a way, for with interaction came acknowledgement, and a realisation that she was not alone. If there was only one thing she feared, her biggest nightmare, it would be loneliness. She could not stomach the idea of not having someone to talk to, someone to listen to her about everything. The idea of being all alone, with no one to rely on or confide in, frightened her. She needed social acceptance and recognition so badly that it made her feel terribly ill.

They were total and complete opposites, yet they saw themselves in each other; they realised that there was something in the other they could appreciate, despite their immense differences. Or, at least, she realised it – she saw in him a side of herself that she hated revealing. She saw in him _loneliness, _a blank acceptance of black solitude, the constant denying of attention and friendship. She wished she could be more like him, more ready to rely on herself, to not have to always depend upon her friends – for her need to socialise was suffocating her.

He could hardly care about her problem. In fact, he scarcely even knew that she existed, despite the fact that they were in the same class. He was, after all, the one who kept to himself, and preferred not to draw any attention to his presence – he just wanted to live his life and get through this school, before he had to up and move to someplace else. He knew, through personal experience, that it would be a mistake to form any long lasting emotional attachments to people…because in the end, he would leave. And they would forget.

He did vaguely recognise her as someone in his class, however, because of that distinctive teal hair. No matter how hard he tried to remove himself from the people in school, he could not help but notice that hair. Not the person, simply the colour of her _hair _– for teal was such a strange colour. It was the one thing that managed to pique his interest, out of everything else in school. Not the lessons, not the people, not the teachers…just _her _hair.

She was always interested in him, right from the very beginning, so she noticed everything about him – from his shaggy, ash-blond hair to his piercing red eyes, the constant look of disinterest and boredom that always played around on his face; they intrigued her, for she had to admit that he was not unattractive, and he was everything that she could not be. She was well-liked and sociable, but deep down she was unhappy…on the other hand, he was a loner in their school who spurned all contact, yet he seemed perfectly content with himself.

She had to wonder why, and how he managed to do such a thing. Humans, people, they were all beings who required a great deal of attention and socialising. Why was he not anything like the rest of them? What made him so different – what gave him the _right _– why was he not interested in any of them? Not even her? She always got a great deal of attention because of the unique colour of her hair, but he alone never seemed to notice her. It frustrated her.

This went on for a while – her, helplessly transfixed by him and his apparent aura of mystery, and him, simply not caring at all. For months, the two of them walked past each other in the hallways, saw each other in class, brushed past the other during their breaks – and they never said a single word to each other, both trying hard to pretend that the other didn't exist. Not because of any misunderstanding, not because of some relationship gone sour; simply because they had spent so long not talking, it would be very strange to start now.

Until one day, as they were leaving the classroom, preparing to head for their next lesson, she realised that he had dropped a piece of paper as he walked down the row, his distant gaze as cold and uncaring as ever. She picked the paper up, and realised it was one of their homework assignments – she hesitated, wondering whether she should return it to him personally, or if she ought to just leave it on his desk. In the end, she decided to use this chance to talk to him, to find out more about him, to _learn_ how he dealt with being alone. How did he manage to keep to himself without being overwhelmed by loneliness?

She called out after him. He noticeably stiffened – she didn't miss the tension in his shoulders – and he turned around, arching a slender eyebrow. She swallowed, held out the piece of paper, explained what was going on – he listened, then nodded and thanked her, his gaze lingering curiously on her all the while. And, when she was done talking, he did the one thing she never expected he would do, causing her eyes to widen in shock and disbelief.

He asked her for her name, something he had never done for any other person in school before. And, with a quavering voice, she gave him her name. _Miku Hatsune_, she said, and she wondered why he was asking her now. Because she had picked up something he dropped? He just tilted his head slightly, his gaze seemingly disinterested as ever.

_I'm Yohio. Call me Hio. _He offered his name in return, and she gaped at him, utterly shocked – she knew his name, most people knew what he was called – but she was shocked that he was willing to actually speak with her for long enough to give her his name. She wondered what had led to this sudden willingness to communicate. However, instead of continuing the conversation, he turned around and walked away, leaving her gaping after him.

Eventually, that incident retreated to the back of her mind, especially because he spoke no more of that after the name exchange. In fact, he did not ever speak to her again, content to wallow in his own solitude and silence. His blank disregard for communication both fascinated and frustrated her, for she still was unable to understand how _anyone _could remain still and solitary for so long. True, there were periods where a person would wish to be alone, so they could think and reflect upon what they did; but not the way _he _did.

He was always alone, never with a friend, never with any companion that she knew of. She was certain that there was a reason for such a thing, and as the days passed, she could not help wondering what that reason could be. It had to be an important reason, to cause him to seal up and avoid people this way. She did not want to stick her nose in where it did not belong, but curiosity was a burning itch, one that would not go away no matter what she did.

She knew his habits, knew his patterns – she had been curious about him for so long that she watched him all the time, and she had long memorised what he did the whole day in school. They shared majority of their classes; even after school ended, he had a tendency to go to the school library and…read. At the beginning, she thought he was studying – that would explain the grades he was always getting – but, after some discreet observation, she realised that he was reading fiction. Fairy-tales, more specifically. In truth, that rather surprised her.

It startled her that someone as cold and seemingly unfeeling as him would have any interest in fairy-tales; she naturally assumed that he would deem them childish, and far beneath him. After all, he was extremely intelligent – he had to be, to score so well without ever doing his homework or listening in class – and she thought it more likely that he would be reading books regarding scientific knowledge. Things like that. But no, fairy-tales…somehow, it contrasted greatly with the image she had of him. She thought him uncaring.

Perhaps it was not – and perhaps it was finding out that he enjoyed children's stories that made her wonder all the more what were his reasons for withdrawing from people. What made him hide from them, almost as though he was _scared_; like he didn't dare to talk to them, thinking he would get hurt or something like that. She understood the fear of being hurt when making new friends, when forming relationships – the pain was part and parcel of life, and even though it hurt, it was utterly silly to avoid making friends just because of that.

She didn't want to jump to conclusions about him though, so she carefully kept that assumption in the back of her mind, and continued watching; never quite daring to make a move and say anything to him, for they were worlds apart and he was almost like an _alien _to her. It took her a few months to start speaking to him, and the only reason such a thing even happened was because they were paired up for a project – the teacher was the one who had decided the pairings – and she had, either luckily or unluckily, ended up with him.

So they had no choice but to communicate. Talking was hard at first; neither of them quite knew what to say to the other, for they were so dissimilar that they weren't very sure of what would offend the other, and what would not. Their conversations stayed on safe topics – what they ought to do for the project, who should do which share of the research, how often they ought to meet up in order to get this over and done with.

Nevertheless, despite their initial wariness of each other, even the thickest block of ice would eventually thaw out given the right amount of time, and they began talking a little more causally. They discussed more personal things, such as their favourite shows and books, or the various places they had been to or wished they could go to. Still safe topics, but not so focused on work anymore. She began gaining a little more insight into his life – she realised they liked similar things, and they even had a fondness for the same bands.

It was a happy coincidence that one of the bands they both supported happened to be coming to town in a month, and they both intended to go for the concert. Hesitantly, almost sure she would be rejected, she asked if he wanted to go to the concert with her; to her surprise, after a moment of consideration, he said yes. So they agreed that, on that day, they would meet, they would go to the band's concert together, and they would enjoy it. She hardly expected that they would ever do such a thing; never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined she would know him that well. But she did, and she gradually learnt to accept reality.

Things led off from there; they started learning more about each other – he knew of her fears and insecurities, for she was more trusting and open than he was, and she found that he made a good listener. He was more wary, and did not tell her very much about himself; still, he was willing to talk to her, to have a casual conversation with her, and that was more than anything he allowed to any other person in their school. She knew that this made her rather special, and sometimes she was still in awe that all this came from a stupid school project.

One day, she asked him about his quietness, about his dislike of talking to people. Why he liked to keep to himself so much, despite people's evident curiosity about him. _Why he always seems to push people away. _He was slow to answer, the question seemingly having startled him – after a prolonged silence, she started to feel uncomfortable around him – that was a feeling she had not experienced in quite a while – and she told him that, if he was not okay with answering her question, then she would not demand that he did so.

He said he didn't mind answering – hastened to reassure her that he was not offended, and he had just been rather startled by the question. So he told her, and she listened – apparently, his parents travelled frequently for work, and his father would often move to new countries every few months for his business. As a result, he rarely stayed for very long in new schools – he was so used to moving around that he no longer tried to maintain connections with people. _It's a waste of time and effort. I'm a nomad, tied down by nothing, free with no tethers or strings. Relationships are just…chains, tying you down. It hurts, you know, to always have to say goodbye to your close friends. Then the cycle repeats itself. I don't want that anymore._

And she realised that her assumption about him was correct – that he was avoiding contact _simply _because of the pain. She just hadn't know about the extent of this – she got the feeling that she was the first person he had ever told this to, judging by the sudden vulnerability in that normally cool red gaze. She didn't say anything, simply being there for comfort – so that he knew, even if he had left his close friends behind, at least he had her. For now.

_It's better to just not talk to people. It saves a lot of suffering in the long run. I guess that's why I like reading so much. _He didn't have to explain anymore, because she understood. As his friend – as the _only _person he had ever held a long conversation with, in this school, she felt almost honoured that he trusted her so much. Enough to tell her this weakness, the truth of his feelings, instead of having the need to hide from her the way he hid from everyone else.

She didn't know how she could help him, not when his family shifted around so much. After all, she could not follow him wherever he went – she worried about when was the next time he would leave. She came to him, expecting him to teach her, expecting to learn how to deal with solitude; in truth, she was the one who was causing him to reveal little bits about himself that she hardly could have guessed at. And she regarded that trust he had in her with great reverence, for it must have been difficult for someone like him to open up to a new person.

No, she could not follow him to wherever he went – she hoped he wouldn't be leaving any time soon, though that would depend on his parents – but she hoped he knew that, even if she could not be around forever, she was here for him now. From now till he left her.

And she hoped he would realise that, no matter how brief relationships were, and how much it hurt when they broke off, they were always better than constantly remaining alone.

* * *

_**Solitaryloner: **__This was meant to be romance. I am not entirely sure why it didn't turn out that way. I think their personalities just disagree with me on this count._


End file.
